


seething shadows breathing lies

by TrekFaerie



Series: HanniKinkMeme [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekFaerie/pseuds/TrekFaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is not good with crowds. Or dancing. Or masks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	seething shadows breathing lies

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of, sort of what a prompter on the Hannibal kink meme wanted. I have a bunch of prompts I'm going to be working on and categorizing under a series.
> 
> Hannibal/Will, costume ball masks: http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/1847.html?thread=2547767#cmt2547767

Will had managed to excuse, plead, and outright lie himself out of the majority of Hannibal’s fancy parties, but Christmas was his downfall-- especially since Alana and Beverly were the ones set on making him attend, and they had ways of making him give into their whims. Specifically, everything short of (and, sometimes, in addition to) physical force.

They were enamored with the idea of the gathering, which Hannibal had spun a pretty picture of during one of his many private dinner parties. (Those, Will couldn’t get out of-- and it wasn’t like he didn’t try, because even the smaller gatherings still made him feel like he was wearing an itchy wool sweater, stuffy and suffocating and uncomfortable. But Hannibal had a way of making him go to those, without even saying a word. He just had to raise an eyebrow and stare.)

It was to be a masquerade-- which Will wasn’t sure even happened anymore, not outside of cheesy Broadway musicals about singing monsters. He had said as much, and Bev had laughed. She then admitted that balls and masquerades-- “princess stuff, you know?”-- had been the main setting of her childhood fantasies, and Alana had agreed. Then, much to Will’s surprise, Hannibal agreed as well.

“All children dream of such opulence and luxury when they themselves cannot experience it,” he had said as he cut himself another slice of pork loin, and it was then that Will realized he had no idea where Hannibal was actually from, not even the country. Somewhere in Europe, he guessed, the kinds of places where people have fancy balls and masquerades and long, romantic histories of royalty and genocide.

In the weeks leading up to the party, he’d gone shopping with the lab team and Alana for clothes and masks. Beverly picked one that looked like a cat; Alana’s was an ornate eye mask, held on by a bright ribbon. The guys chose weird ones: Jimmy’s looked like some kind of large bird, while Brian’s had a massive plume of black feathers. Will just got the plainest-looking one that covered the most amount of space.

The party itself was in some rented hall, the kind of place a spoiled teenager would have their bar mitzvah in. It was festooned-- and that was definitely a word Will had never expected to use in any context, ever-- with the colors of the season, all red poinsettias and sprigs of evergreen, all very tasteful and classy. And there was food, of course, probably all prepared by Hannibal and his little hired team of sous chefs, but Will felt too sick to eat, even if it smelled amazing. There were just too many people.

He wanted to just fade into the wallpaper, but his friends-- at least, he hoped they thought of him as a friend-- had other plans. He only immediately recognized four of the people that spun him around the floor in haphazard waltzes, but he was able to catch a few more: the laughing lion that had stolen him from Beverly was obviously Jack, while the fox who cut in was clearly Bella. The rest of the dancers swept by in a sea of hard faces: some papier mache, some plaster, some plastic; some funny, some alluring, some horrific. Will felt like a mouse being bat around by a bunch of playful cats.

The spinning stopped and he ended up leaning against the bar, struggling to breathe while he concentrated on the sure movements of the bartender as he made gin and tonics for a pair of colorful birds. He was sweating under the mask, drowning in his own nervousness, and he would have passed out if he wasn’t sure Hannibal would hold the embarrassment against him for the rest of his life--

A strong hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed a thin flute of champagne into his hand. He looked up into the face of a dragon.

It was a traditional western dragon, painted ruby red, ugly and terrifying. But the eyes that came through the disfigured holes were familiar, very familiar.

“You need to relax, Will.” He had never been so glad to hear Hannibal’s mumbly voice. “You look close to fainting.”

“Well, I feel even closer.” He held onto the glass with nearly enough force to crack it, like it was his last lifeline to the world. “I don’t like parties.”

“Would you like to get some air? It may help clear your mind.” The hand on his shoulder stayed there, as he was wheeled out of the crowded hall and into some sort of balcony. It was bitterly cold, a dusting of snow still on the ground, and Will shook as his sweaty face started to chill.

“The champagne will help calm your nerves.” Hannibal seemed oddly insistent on having him drink the champagne, taking it from his iron grip with a considerable amount of force. His free hand went to the bottom edge of his mask, fingers lightly pressed against it. “The Bauta mask is worn by those who want to conceal their identities completely,” he said, and Will wasn’t surprised at all that he knew the history of the weird masks everyone was wearing. It was just the kind of thing he would know. “However, it can be difficult to do much of anything while wearing one. Like drinking.”

He tilted Will’s mask upward, just enough to reveal his lips, and pressed the glass against them. Will drank as much as Hannibal gave him, which ended up being almost the entire glass. He was surprised he didn’t drown.

A sudden warmth bloomed in him as the champagne spread through his system, much faster than he thought it ought to. The warmth bloomed hotter when he realized that Hannibal’s hand had moved to the small of his back

He did feel more calm and relaxed as the party went on, and even joined his fellow revelers with more enthusiasm than he thought was possible for him to have. When the clock struck midnight and everyone removed their masks, Will felt an almost palpable sense of relief. They weren’t animals or monsters at all. They were just people, friends, smiling back at him. And Hannibal.

He wasn’t capable of driving. (Leaving his group without their designated driver, which he apologized profusely for, but, luckily, Bella and Jack had extra room their car for the girls while the boys split a taxi.) Though he could’ve gone with either group, he ended up accepting Hannibal’s offer of a night at his house, since Will’s own home was so far off. Though Beverly leered at him when they left, Will just shrugged it off and planned for a night on Hannibal’s couch.

It didn’t end up that way.

But they kept the masks on.


End file.
